<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:18:52.397-07:00</updated><category term='money'/><title type='text'>I call shenanigans</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm sure they're all up to something...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-4153074957354609227</id><published>2007-02-14T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T19:36:58.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Did It!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/Rdc_KJdwDmI/AAAAAAAAAAk/jOKO-S7uR0Y/s1600-h/DSCF1136.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/Rdc_KJdwDmI/AAAAAAAAAAk/jOKO-S7uR0Y/s320/DSCF1136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032560552181763682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Friday the 9th at 3pm, TBG and I stood in front of a judge (and a few of our friends and family)&lt;br /&gt; and promised each other our forevers. No nervousness, no fear, none of the gut-clenching sense of wrongness I had when I married BoyChild's dad. I took my emotional temperature several times throughout the day - just in case - but felt nothing but calm excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the ceremony, we went with TBG's sis and B-I-L, and my best girlfriend and her husband to a very swank tapas bar on Canyon Road. The food was AMAZING, the two couples (each our own favorite people in the world) got along great. How rare is that? I'm so used to the "my friends think your friends are loud, rude boors, and your friends think my friends are uptight snobs" routine, keeping everybody separated at social gatherings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, some combination of nerves, not eating right that day, too much unusual food, and ONE pomegranate margarita served to make me sicker than I think I have ever been. By eight that night I was violently ill, and continued with intermittent dances with the porcelain throne all night. Beautiful wedding, horrible wedding night. We decided it's NOT a portent of things to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-4153074957354609227?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/4153074957354609227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=4153074957354609227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/4153074957354609227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/4153074957354609227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/02/we-did-it.html' title='We Did It!'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/Rdc_KJdwDmI/AAAAAAAAAAk/jOKO-S7uR0Y/s72-c/DSCF1136.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-8770091480932313523</id><published>2007-01-29T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T16:43:18.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Therapy</title><content type='html'>I forgive myself...&lt;br /&gt;for believing that I'm a bad mother&lt;br /&gt;for basing my self-worth on my son's behavior&lt;br /&gt;for thinking I'm not good enough&lt;br /&gt;for not living up to others' expectations&lt;br /&gt;for having anger at my son&lt;br /&gt;for being afraid of judgment&lt;br /&gt;for feeling like a failure&lt;br /&gt;for having had suicidal thoughts&lt;br /&gt;for resenting my situation&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-8770091480932313523?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/8770091480932313523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=8770091480932313523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/8770091480932313523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/8770091480932313523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/01/therapy.html' title='Therapy'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-1439380911094812341</id><published>2007-01-23T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T17:01:42.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging for Choice</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Blog for Choice Button Code --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bushvchoice.com/blog_choice_day.html" target="_new"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.bushvchoice.com/images/blog_button_2007.jpg" alt="Blog for Choice Day - January 22, 2007" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!-- end --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't a hard choice for me, not really. A horrible time, a horrible place. I can't imagine what it would have been like, to have had that baby then. I was hardly in a position to parent the son I already had, let alone add a new responsibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was living in my best friend's spare room while I waited for my divorce to go through, trying to mother an eighteen-month-old Boychild as best I could. My horrible disaster of a fling (drug-addled, ulcer-ridden alcoholic anyone? anyone? Bueller?) was ending badly. I guess it didn't actually end badly, it just sort of became apparent that the whole thing was a giant nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor choice on top of poor choice, lackadaisical birth control usage, and POOF, I peed on a stick and got a plus sign. Somehow I wasn't even surprised. Didn't this just add insult to injury? Broke, divorced, homeless, jobless, blah blah blah. There wasn't a question of keeping it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week before I left town, I visited the local Planned Parenthood. That was a surprise to me: show your face to the camera, push the buzzer, announce your name into the microphone, wait for them to verify your information, then they'll release the door to allow you in. No protesters outside this clinic, at least not when I went. Confirmed the home test, then the bad news. Be prepared for the side effects afterwards; pain, bleeding, no heavy lifting. So taking care of it before moving was right out then. How to explain to my family and friends why I couldn't help move any of the boxes or furniture into the moving truck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I got where I was going and unpacked, I tried again. Called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; Planned Parenthood, found out that no clinic or doctor anywhere close would even perform the procedure. Next town over, one doctor at a "Family Practice Clinic" would do that within certain strict parameters (very early term, three-day waiting period (what, was I buying a gun?) etc).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister said I talked all through the procedure; the "twilight sleep" they gave me kept me from remembering. I asked the doctor what he was doing every step of the way. I wanted to know everything. He told me that most patients don't want to/can't handle knowing what's going on "down there." I told him I wasn't most patients, and made him give me the play-by-play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember sitting in the passenger seat of the car afterwards, riding back to the house, feeling parched and slightly hung-over. My sister bought me food at some fast-food place to fight the nausea the drugs might cause. I couldn't eat any of it, but sucked down that soda like an elixir. We got home and I held my son, thankful for the life I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading over this I sound cold. I'm not, I wasn't. I think about it sometimes, do the math, count birthdays. I also count my blessings that this option was available.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-1439380911094812341?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/1439380911094812341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=1439380911094812341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/1439380911094812341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/1439380911094812341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/01/blogging-for-choice.html' title='Blogging for Choice'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-7169642060711992466</id><published>2007-01-15T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T15:37:27.782-07:00</updated><title type='text'>150 things</title><content type='html'>01. bought everyone in the bar a drink&lt;br /&gt;02. swam with wild dolphins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;03. climbed a mountain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;04. taken a ferrari for a test drive&lt;br /&gt;05. been inside the great pyramid&lt;br /&gt;06. held a tarantula&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;07. taken a candlelit bath with someone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;08. said “i love you” and meant it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;09. hugged a tree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;10. bungee jumped&lt;br /&gt;11. visited Paris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12. watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13. stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14. seen the northern lights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15. gone to a huge sports game&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;16. walked the stairs to the top of the leaning tower of pisa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;17. grown and eaten your own vegetables&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. touched an iceberg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;19. slept under the stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;20. changed a baby’s diaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;21. taken a trip in a hot air balloon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;22. watched a meteor shower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;23. gotten drunk on champagne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;24. given more than you can afford to charity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;25. looked up at the night sky through a telescope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;26. had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;27. had a food fight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;28. bet on a winning horse&lt;br /&gt;29. asked out a stranger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;30. had a snowball fight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;31. screamed as loudly as you possibly can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;32. held a lamb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;33. seen a total eclipse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;34. ridden a roller coaster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;35. hit a home run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;36. danced like a fool and not cared who was looking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;37. adopted an accent for an entire day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;38. actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;39. had two hard drives for your computer&lt;br /&gt;40. visited all 50 states&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;41. taken care of someone who was drunk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;42. had amazing friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. danced with a stranger in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;44. watched whales&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;45. stolen a sign&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. backpacked in europe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;47. taken a road-trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;48. gone rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;49. midnight walk on the beach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;50. gone sky diving&lt;br /&gt;51. visited ireland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;52. been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. in a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them&lt;br /&gt;54. visited japan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;55. milked a cow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. alphabetized your cds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;57. pretended to be a superhero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;58. sung karaoke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;59. lounged around in bed all day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;60. played touch football&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. gone scuba diving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;62. kissed in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;63. played in the mud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;64. played in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;65. gone to a drive-in theater&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;66. visited the great wall of china&lt;br /&gt;67. started a business&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;68. fallen in love and not had your heart broken&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;69. toured ancient sites&lt;br /&gt;70. taken a martial arts class&lt;br /&gt;71. played d&amp;d for more than 6 hours straight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;72. gotten married&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;73. been in a movie&lt;br /&gt;74. crashed a party&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;75. gotten divorced&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;76. gone without food for 5 days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;77. made cookies from scratch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. won first prize in a costume contest&lt;br /&gt;79. ridden a gondola in venice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;80. gotten a tattoo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. rafted the snake river&lt;br /&gt;82. been on television news programs as an “expert”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;83. gotten flowers for no reason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;84. performed on stage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;85. been to las vegas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;86. recorded music&lt;br /&gt;87. eaten shark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;88. kissed on the first date&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;89. gone to thailand&lt;br /&gt;90. bought a house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;91. been in a combat zone&lt;br /&gt;92. buried one/both of your parents&lt;br /&gt;93. been on a cruise ship&lt;br /&gt;94. spoken more than one language fluently&lt;br /&gt;95. performed in rocky horror&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;96. raised children&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;97. followed your favorite band/singer on tour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;98. passed out cold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;99. taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;100. picked up and moved to another city to just start over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;101. walked the golden gate bridge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;102. sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;103. had plastic surgery&lt;br /&gt;104. survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived&lt;br /&gt;105. wrote articles for a large publication&lt;br /&gt;106. lost over 100 pounds&lt;br /&gt;107. held someone while they were having a flashback&lt;br /&gt;108. piloted an airplane&lt;br /&gt;109. touched a stingray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;110. broken someone’s heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;111. helped an animal give birth&lt;br /&gt;112. won money on a t.v. game show&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;113. broken a bone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;114. gone on an african photo safari&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;115. had a facial part pierced other than your ears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;116. fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;117. eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;118. ridden a horse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;119. had major surgery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;120. had a snake as a pet&lt;br /&gt;121. hiked to the bottom of the grand canyon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;122. slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;123. visited more foreign countries than u.s. states&lt;br /&gt;124. visited all 7 continents&lt;br /&gt;125. taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days&lt;br /&gt;126. eaten kangaroo meat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;127. eaten sushi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;128. had your picture in the newspaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;129. changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;130. gone back to school&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;131. parasailed&lt;br /&gt;132. touched a cockroach&lt;br /&gt;133. eaten fried green tomatoes&lt;br /&gt;134. read The Iliad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;135. selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;136. killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;137. skipped all your school reunions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;138. communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language&lt;br /&gt;139. been elected to public office&lt;br /&gt;140. written your own computer language&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;141. thought to yourself that you’re living your dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;142. had to put someone you love into hospice care&lt;br /&gt;143. built your own PC from parts&lt;br /&gt;144. sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you&lt;br /&gt;145. had a booth at a street fair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;146. dyed your hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;147. been a dj&lt;br /&gt;148. shaved your head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;149. caused a car accident&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;150. saved someone’s life&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-7169642060711992466?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/7169642060711992466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=7169642060711992466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/7169642060711992466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/7169642060711992466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/01/150-things.html' title='150 things'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-5103299536649854226</id><published>2007-01-13T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T15:33:32.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wedding</title><content type='html'>So what do we do? Elope? Run off to Vegas? City Hall? Niagara Falls?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We keep talking about it, back and forth, neither one of us has any overwhelming preference. Or at least none that we're saying out loud. I'd love some little thing; I'm not sure what that thing should be though. There's a little place between here and Albuquerque that does elopements, &lt;a href="http://www.hdasantafe.com/weddings.php"&gt;Hacienda Dona Andrea&lt;/a&gt;, that looks like it would meet my Pretty Pretty Princess needs, without breaking the bank. The idea of a tacky bad-movie wedding in Vegas cracks my shit up, I mean who could resist the allure of &lt;a href="http://www.lasvegaswedding.com/themed-weddings.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;City Hall would be easy, or the local courthouse, or wherever it is. That's our quick option. Our get-the-woman-some-insurance option. Not so terribly romantic, but legal. And quick (did I mention the part about it being quick?).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-5103299536649854226?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/5103299536649854226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=5103299536649854226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/5103299536649854226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/5103299536649854226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/01/wedding.html' title='The Wedding'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-2045701099529029526</id><published>2007-01-10T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T19:36:58.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He's...difficult</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/RaVUovaUBQI/AAAAAAAAAAY/bcKlPZlra8g/s1600-h/Boychild.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/RaVUovaUBQI/AAAAAAAAAAY/bcKlPZlra8g/s200/Boychild.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018510418672616706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son is a difficult child, I won't deny it. He's hyper, willful, destructive and defiant (sounds like a real peach, no?). He's also smart as a whip, funny, sweet, affectionate and very observant. He's good at finding your buttons and pushing them. The second you raise your voice he knows he's got you. I love him more than anything else and still occasionally want to sell him to the gypsies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where am I going with all this? Boychild is in the afterschool program until TBG picks him up around 4:30. The aide who is in charge of his age group also happens to be the instructional aide in his classroom. Boychild is difficult for ME to deal with for 8 hours straight, let alone someone else. She's complained so much about him to her supervisor that we now have a "behavioral contract" and if he gets one more demerit he gets suspended for a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TBG was there for the big meeting with the IA and her boss yesterday, and he let the IA have it (Thank Goddess I have a champion) and called her out on some of the crap she's pulled. There's a little form I stole from Mir &lt;a href="http://wouldashoulda.com/2006/11/30/love-is-progress/#more-1256"&gt;(wouldashoulda.com)&lt;/a&gt; and made my own to find out what the school means when they say Good Day/Bad Day. The IA told TBG that the aftercare program won't use that form: we'll know he's been bad when he gets a demerit. Ummmm, ok. IA's boss says "Oh yes we do fill out forms like that, we do it for several other kids." Hmmmmm, smack of sabotage much? (Yes, I'm paranoid, I admit it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the IA left the room, TBG gave the boss a few more pieces of useful information, and she shared the tasty little tidbit that SHE'S had so many problems with the IA that she's talking to the Big Boss about the issues. So maybe we can add our voices to the horde and get the woman canned...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after a day of feeling defensive of Boychild, and mad at the world, and pulling my MommaBear act, he blows it. I tucked him in last night and found a HUGE hole in his (brand new) top sheet. Then I found seven or eight little ones in his pillowcase. And then one in his (also brand new) comforter. All these months we thought he was doing so well with the safety scissors...so they're gone now, and the ruined sheets are in the trash (comforter will have to be patched, I'm not buying a new one). WTF? TBG gave him a swat (shock, horror, GASP!) and I took away his favorite plushy blanket for a while, since I can't trust him with nice things. Bleh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-2045701099529029526?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/2045701099529029526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=2045701099529029526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/2045701099529029526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/2045701099529029526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/01/hesdifficult.html' title='He&apos;s...difficult'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/RaVUovaUBQI/AAAAAAAAAAY/bcKlPZlra8g/s72-c/Boychild.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-4147334195356742606</id><published>2007-01-08T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T19:36:59.514-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><title type='text'>Unshopping</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/RaKq2lMGemI/AAAAAAAAAAM/HuhW-ttcjKM/s1600-h/piggybank.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/RaKq2lMGemI/AAAAAAAAAAM/HuhW-ttcjKM/s200/piggybank.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017760789516679778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran into an article about a group of people in San Francisco, &lt;a href="http://sfcompact.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Compact&lt;/a&gt;, who didn't buy anything new the whole year of 2006, and it got me thinking. How much do The Big Guy and I spend without even noticing? Books, lunches out, random stuff for Boychild, you name it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw this on  &lt;a href="http://www.quietfish.com/notebook/?p=595"&gt;a peek inside the fish bowl&lt;/a&gt; and with all the money issues we're having right now, I decided to try it. Groceries are exempt, and medical issues, but other than that? NADA. Since TBG's car is already in the shop, we'll have to pay that, but maybe that will be the last big crisis for a while. Maybe I shouldn't jinx myself by saying that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-4147334195356742606?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/4147334195356742606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=4147334195356742606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/4147334195356742606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/4147334195356742606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/01/unshopping.html' title='Unshopping'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_H7FJyxJXD_g/RaKq2lMGemI/AAAAAAAAAAM/HuhW-ttcjKM/s72-c/piggybank.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527243394891740873.post-5274383085062678157</id><published>2007-01-05T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T14:15:29.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Resolution</title><content type='html'>I have only one: don't procrastinate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That encompasses so many things for me, including paying bills on time, returning phone calls, getting things done around the house, work at the office, and so many more I can't list them. Part of it's fear: my financial situation was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so bad&lt;/span&gt; for so long that I'm still stuck in the ostrich mindset (ignore it an it'll go away). Part of it is pure laziness, I'll admit it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is part of my stop procrastinating resolution. I've wanted to set up somewhere to write for a long time now, and the paper journal isn't cutting it. So here goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8527243394891740873-5274383085062678157?l=icallshenanigans.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/feeds/5274383085062678157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8527243394891740873&amp;postID=5274383085062678157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/5274383085062678157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8527243394891740873/posts/default/5274383085062678157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://icallshenanigans.blogspot.com/2007/01/this-is-test.html' title='New Year&apos;s Resolution'/><author><name>Isa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03247235015167949353</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
